The Black Notebook IX: No Rest for the Weary
by Celtic Knot
Summary: On the Athosian version of Halloween, the events of a previous Black Notebook episode come back to haunt Sheppard. Literally. Slight JT 'ship.


**No Rest for the Weary**

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­"Aw, come on, Doc, I feel fine," Sheppard protested.

"Nevertheless, I want you here for monitoring until the rest of that herb is out of your system. God only knows what other kinds of side effects it might have."

Sheppard gritted his teeth. "The Athosians have been using it for thousands of years, and they've all been fine."

Glaring at him, Beckett said, "In case you haven't noticed, Colonel, you're not an Athosian. Besides," he added, his expression softening slightly, "this is you we're talking about, Colonel Calamity."

"Hey, I resemble that remark," Sheppard joked, knowing he was defeated. "Look, can I at least run back to my quarters and get my journal?"

Beckett hesitated.

"I will get it for you, John," Teyla volunteered softly. Sheppard wished she wouldn't look at him like that––she knew what that black notebook was for, and there was something akin to pity in her eyes.

"Teyla, you don't have to––" he began, but she was already gone.

Sheppard settled back with an exasperated sigh.

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­­­­­­­And so I find myself in Beckett's clutches once more. I should really try to remember to never, _ever _participate in alien rituals––even Athosian ones.

It started this morning when Teyla was on her way to the mainland to visit her people. I volunteered to fly the Jumper––we haven't had much time alone together lately, and there were a lot of things we needed to talk about. Well, evidently today was an Athosian holiday––kind of like Halloween––and she invited me to stay for the afternoon.

"It's called the Day of the Dead," she explained. "It is the day we celebrate the lives of those who have passed on."

I nodded. "There are cultures on Earth that have exactly the same thing. In Mexico, for example, they celebrate the…" I had to think back to my high school Spanish class. "_Dia de los Muertos,_ which is literally the Day of the Dead. Sounds like exactly what you're talking about." I remember one in-class _Dia de los Muertos _party, my junior year, I think. We were given little paper skeletons to decorate to represent a family member who had died. I did one for my great-great-grandfather, who was a bandleader in Italy. I drew a marching band uniform––a replica of the band uniform of my school, but red, white, and green instead of blue, gold, and white––on the paper bones, and a somewhat silly-looking Shaako hat on the skull. Even a good twenty years later (God, that makes me feel old!) it still makes me laugh to think about it. "And most of the world, I think, has Halloween on October thirty-first––that's in three days," I continued. "That started out as something similar, but eventually devolved into people dressing up in costumes and trying to scare each other. Kinda silly, but fun."

Anyway, when we got to the mainland, Teyla invited me to join the Day of the Dead feast. I tried to back out, but no such luck. _Oh well, _I thought, _what can it hurt?_

A lot, as it turns out. But I didn't know that.

The food was good––better than anything we get in Atlantis, that's for sure. At the end of the meal, Teyla stood up and led the gathering in a prayer of some sort. They spoke in Ancient, and I couldn't understand a word of it. Then everyone picked up a green leafy thing from their plates that until then I'd assumed was a garnish, put it in their mouths and chewed, but didn't swallow. In the interest of diplomacy, I followed suit.

It tasted spicy and minty at the same time, and it was so strong it made my eyes water. My shock must have shown on my face, because some of the Athosians were smiling at me, and children pointed and giggled, much to the chagrin of their parents. Meanwhile, the flavor grew progressively more intense until I nearly choked on it, then died away altogether. I was more than happy to imitate the Athosians once more as they spat the remains of the herb back onto their plates.

When I could breathe again, I turned to Teyla and gasped, "What _was _that stuff?"

Teyla gave me a sympathetic smile. "Zisha leaf. According to legend, it allows us to communicate with the spirits of the dead on this day."

That should have raised a red flag, right there. I distinctly remember her saying something very similar just over two years ago––I believe her exact words were, "My father often told stories of creatures such as this. I always thought he was just trying to keep the children from straying far from our camp." I remember that because it seemed like such a pointless thing to say it the time––the "creature" in question was attached to my neck at that point. So I really should start putting much more stock in Athosian mythology.

Of course, hindsight may be 20/20, but foresight? Not so much. I just nodded, said, "Okay," and followed Teyla toward a clearing for the bonfire she'd told me was to follow.

I never made it that far. Because all of a sudden, standing there right in front of me, was my sister. Domenica, who had been dead for months, gunned down in the street by some monster who hadn't yet been found.

At first, I thought she was Elei, an Athosian who I'd noticed a few months before precisely because she resembled Domenica. But no, this was definitely my sister, glaring at me with her hands on her hips.

I stopped and stared, completely oblivious to however Teyla and the Athosians reacted when they saw how strangely I was acting. I didn't even really care. Staring down the angry ghost of your own sister will do that to you. "Domenica, what… how… why…" I stammered incoherently. I didn't even _believe _in ghosts, so why I was convinced it really was her and not some sort of trick is beyond me.

She leveled an accusing finger at me, and I stumbled back a step. "You abandoned me," she hissed.

The words cut deep to the guilt that had plagued me since her death. "Domenica… Nic, I'm sorry, I tried to explain…" My protest sounded hollow, even to me.

"Oh, yes." Her voice dropped to a growl, the one that told me where all of her horror stories came from, and I shivered. She was uniquely frightening when she was angry, even when she was alive. "You _explained _that your career was more important to you than your own _family. _You left me alone. After I died, you left Daniel alone. And now look what's happened."

She reached down as if to take a child's hand––and there was little Daniel, her son. "Oh, God, no," I whispered. "Daniel…" I knelt and reached out for him.

He turned his green eyes to me and shrank away. "It's your fault, Uncle John. Your fault."

I stared up at Domenica, tears welling up in my eyes. "What can I do? Tell me how I can make it right, Nic. Please."

"Come back to us," she said.

I blinked in surprise. "Back to Earth? But––" Stupid.

"No, John, not back to Earth!" she cried. Her eyes blazed, and I couldn't look away.

That's how long it took me to realize what she meant. It would be a fairly simple proposition, really. A little time alone, and I could make it look like an accident. "I'll go with you," I whispered. "I will."

Domenica's expression melted into a smile, and she vanished. Daniel ran up to me and gave a hug. "See you soon, Uncle John," he said, and then he disappeared, too.

The next thing I new, I was flat on my back on a cot in a tent, with the light of the bonfire and the sounds of singing and celebration coming in from outside. Teyla was standing beside me, concern written on her face. "Thank the Ancestors, you are awake," she breathed.

Looking at her, the full impact of what I'd promised Nic and Daniel hit me so hard I trembled. I couldn't do it––but I had to. "What happened?" I asked, my voice rasping in the dry throat.

"You saw your sister," Teyla said softly, "and you promised to go with her. It seems there is some truth to the legends after all." There were tears in her eyes. "Do you know what you have promised, John?"

I closed my eyes. "Yes." And because of it, I felt oddly detached from the world––from everyone and everything, except Teyla.

She looked away, and whispered so quietly I almost couldn't hear her, "Then you would abandon me, too?"

My breath caught in my throat. No. No, I couldn't do that. I'm so damned good at running away, and I knew I had to put an end to it. But it would mean betraying my sister, _again._

Obviously, I didn't go through with it––I wouldn't be writing this if I had. As it turns out, zisha leaf interacts with the ATA gene to produce hallucinogenic effects. Everything I'd seen had come from my own mind.

But nevertheless, thanks to the intergalactic bridge, I was able to return to Earth for a day to check up on Daniel, who had been adopted by Domenica's boyfriend Mike.

They seemed happy, for the most part. It's hard to tell sometimes with Daniel––he's always been a quiet kid. But I was disturbed to see that he had a black eye and one arm in a sling. "He fell down the stairs," Mike said by way of explanation.

For some reason, I didn't quite believe him. But with no evidence to the contrary, I had no choice but to return to Atlantis considerably more distressed than when I left.

I can only hope I'm doing the right thing. Because my entire life seems to be on the verge of falling apart around me.

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Sheppard flipped the black notebook closed with a sigh. That kind of thing was precisely why he kept himself apart from everybody else––everyone he allowed himself to love got hurt. And it was usually his fault.

It was too much guilt to live with, really. But such was the life of John Sheppard. His thoughts turned to Teyla, and he wondered briefly how anyone could possibly care for him.

He fell asleep with a heavy heart.


End file.
